


“How do you know? How do you always know when Dean is different?”

by pishtaco



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pishtaco/pseuds/pishtaco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short conversation between Sam and Cas, based on the way Cas always seems to know when Dean is different, as demonstrated in End!Verse and more recently with the Mark of Cain. Neither of those two interactions are ref'd though, as one never really happened, and the other hasn't happened yet at the time this is set, which is just after 9.13 (The Purge). It's totally inline with canon. Sam is at this time still royally pissed at Dean for the whole Gadreel thing. Oh, and there's an expression at the end that I couldn't help putting in.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	“How do you know? How do you always know when Dean is different?”

   “Did you know?” Sam asked. “Did you know when Gadreel was...” he made a vague gesture towards himself. “Here?”  
   Castiel, who was sitting opposite him in the diner booth, shook his head, slowly.  
   “No,” he said. “I was then very much human, and unable to tell.”  
   Sam nodded.  
   “I'm sorry, Sam,” he continued. “I'm sorry you had to go through that.” He looked somewhat heartbroken and as intent as ever as he stared at Sam across the table.  
   “No, no, it's fine. I was just, wondering, that's all.” He gave a small smile to show his lack of concern. He didn't want Cas to think he was being accusatory. He really was just wondering.  
   Cas nodded and shortly returned to his occupation of gazing towards the diner counter. Sam returned to playing with the pepper pot, and enjoyed the silence. He liked Cas for his silences. He didn't make conversation, unless he was genuinely curious, or unless something genuinely needed to be discussed. Silences with Cas felt natural, and Sam appreciated that.  
   They were seated at a diner just inside Stillwater, Minnesota, where Sam and Dean had that day been working a case. The ride out in the car to the diner where Cas met them had been awkward and tense. Nothing got in the way of cordiality like a brother who insisted on ganking everything and anything slightly non-human, even if the non-human in question conducted themselves with more humanity than some actual humans Sam had known. Indeed, today's particular monster had been using her abilities to help the overweight regain the appearance they'd enjoyed during slimmer days. Yes, her brother had been a little troublesome, yes, he'd spilt a little blood, and yes, they'd had to intervene, fatally, but who was to say she was anything alike? No one liked to be lumped together with a sibling. It just wasn't fair.  
   Dean was himself at this moment at the counter, ordering their main meals. Sam told himself to relax. He was mad at Dean, very mad, and he had good reason to be that went far, far beyond the attempted treatment of a certain Peruvian parasite, but there was little point in pursuing it here and now. His brother was analysing the specials board with an endearing intensity, and was himself the object of Castiel's attention. Sam smiled to himself. Same old.  
   “Would you have known,” he began, and Cas turned to face him. “Would you have known if Dean had been possessed, even without your angel mojo?”  
   “Yes.”  
   The reply was immediate, and Sam smiled again, as he scratched at something on the tabletop. After a moment he raised his eyes to meet Cas' stare, and said,  
   “How do you know? How do you always know when Dean is different? You seem to often know before me, even.”  
   For the first time in the conversation, Cas dropped Sam's gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again.  
   “I...” Cas looked up. “I don't always know.”  
   “Okay, no, but often. Like the other day. You knew Dean had slept out that night. And before that, you knew he was hiding something when he'd brought you White Castle as a surprise. You seem to know these things.”  
   “Yes. And I _did_ know he was hiding something from me when I came home with you both to the bunker, when Gadreel was possessing you, but I couldn't tell what. He was particularly stressed over it, so I didn't make an inquiry.”  
   Sam nodded. “So? How'd you do it?”  
   Cas frowned and looked down again. There was a pause, and Sam thought he was going to remain quiet. But then he said,  
   “I... know Dean. Very well. Better than anyone. I have always... watched him. I didn't know much about humanity when I arrived, but, I wanted to know. And I wanted to know Dean. He was very special. I saw his soul in hell, and it was so, supernally, beautifully, bright, in spite of perdition. But he was so hurt. Even once I'd resurrected him. I find Dean very...”  
   Cas looked up, and stopped, evidently feeling he'd said enough, or too much, even. Was the angel feeling embarrassed? Oh, how far they'd come. It _was_ quite the encomium. Sam prompted him a little further.  
   “Very...?”  
   “Compelling.”  
   Sam nodded and smiled.  
   “I see. I can tell.” He hadn't heard Cas be so talkative in a long time. It was sweet. And it further thawed his anger towards his brother. Dean didn't know how lucky he was. Cas was his greatest ally, Sam was sure. He could commit blue murder and the jury would not only let him off in a flash, but send him flowers too, if he only had Cas in his defence. Castiel's genuine and open affection for Sam's brother was plain to see, and to hear him talk about Dean was to see Dean in the best colours possible. It was miraculous, and it warmed the cockles of Sam's heart. One day, he decided, he'd have to ask Dean about Cas again - he hadn't done so in a long while. Something told him it wouldn't be quite as fluently effusive.


End file.
